My newest story! Introducing an all new character: Asia. Be nice, people, she's the new kid in town and feeling a bit insecure.

For all of you who've read my previous, and still ongoing, story Aleandra, just a little note. This story is not dark. Not at all, actually. I love this one just as much as I love Aleandra, but I wanted to tell you.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Fooled you! This one is ALL mine, baby…

Chapter 1

"Asia, you IDIOT! Wait up!" I pretended not to hear. It was the Asia version of sticking my fingers in my ears and singing.

"ASIA!"

"Umpf!" The air was knocked out of my lungs when she jumped at me, making me fall flat on my face and, on top of that, having her landing on my butt.

"Are…" Maria had a trace of guilt in her eyes, but it disappeared as soon as she saw I wasn't dead.

Dear God, this girl was as harmless as a tiger. A tiger with a headache.

"Are you some kind of idiot?!" I got up, glared at her. Waiting for some kind of explanation. Maria, instead, of falling to her knees and begging me not to kill her, frowned.

"You didn't stop."

"And then you have to try to kill me? You are aware of the fact that if I'm dead, then you'll be walking home."

"You're not dead."

"Oh, I forgot. Well then, it doesn't matter that much, you'll be walking home anyway." She looked surprised, then started whining.

"Oh, Asia, please don't be like that, I swear, I swear, I wasn't trying to kill you, I just wanted you to pay me some attention, please, let me ride with you, please, please, please, please…"

"No." She didn't listen.

"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease… PLEASE, Asia!"

(Now, I just think I have to clarify this. No, my mother wasn't a hippie. She didn't name me during a LSD-trip. Asia's a nickname – my real one's Jennifer. A very plain, very ordinary Jennifer. Not Asia. The nickname Asia I got when I transferred to St Gorans Academy during fifth grade. It just so happens, that when I transferred, I was in the middle of my Japanese period. My hair was always in a tiny knot, I read manga (though I didn't understand half of it), I tried to learn karate and my biggest dream was to be a samurai. Of course, back in the days, women was treated like crap in Japan. And they were certainly not allowed to be samurais. But when I found it out, I was long past my Japanese period, and in the middle of my soccer period.

Anyway, when I met my new class for the first time, I was wearing a black T-shirt that said SAMURAI in huge, red letters (of course…) and my hair was, as always, in a tiny knot. When the teacher introduced me to the other kids and asked them if they wanted to ask me any questions, a guy in the back of the classroom (who I could see was the self proclaimed Funny Guy of this class) yelled: Oi! Asia Girl! Where are you from?´

And the rest is history.

Of course, Asia Girl is a little too long, so in the end, it became just Asia.

THAT'S why they call me Asia. Not because my mom was a hippie. Or named me during an LSD-trip.)

"No." Marias lower lip started trembling. Oh, no. Maria looked like a three year old when she cried. And of course, the girl could start crying whenever she wanted.

"Please…" A tear ran down her cheek. Fuck. I couldn't resist that. I felt evil when I did. And if I forced her to walk home, she would surely be sulking the next morning.

"Fine!" I snarled. She shouted Yay!´ and clapped her hands. I didn't even bother looking at her. At that moment, I had a hard time trying to remember why I ever started hanging out with her.

---

"I'm home!" No one answered. Of course they didn't. My mom was probably still at work, trying to make people understand gays and lesbians were people, too. My other mom was in South America, and would be for the next few months.

Seriously. I loved my mothers, but sometimes, I wish they could be a little less Time To Save My Planet! and a little more Okay honey, what do you want for dinner?

My brother, two years younger than me and such a sweetie, wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. He was never home before seven. Either he had some kind of activity – football or soccer of hockey or dancing – or he was with a friend, busy playing Guitar Hero.

Aka, the house was empty.

I sighed and dropped my bag on the floor. No point in picking it up if I didn't have to. I went in to the kitchen, opening the fridge and examined my possibilities. Hmm. That chocolate cake looked really fabulous… No. I slapped myself loosely. Unlike my dear cousin, I wasn't naturally thin. I was actually quite proud of my body. Not thin as a thread, just normal, but I was curvy in a way that wasn't that usual nowadays.

Yeah, I guess you could call me pretty.

But being curvy forced me to be careful with what I ate. Sometimes I really envied my cousin. We didn't look alike, with the exception of the long, curly brown hair. Then, she went and cut it all off, and we looked like we were from different planets.

I felt a little jolt of pain in my stomach. My cousin went missing over a year ago. I missed her. I didn't think she was dead. My mom (the South America-one) told me her sister (my cousin's mom) actually started laughing when the police said she might have been kidnapped. I did, too, when I heard it. Jeez, put that girl in a room with Hannibal Lecter, and ten minutes later his balls would be hanging on her trophy wall.

Whatever. I sighed. I had come to the conclusion my cousin were just fine. I had stopped thinking about it a long time ago.

I did feel a little dumped, though.

I stared at the chocolate cake. Aw, what the hell. No one would notice, anyway. I grabbed the plate and rushed up the stairs, into my room.

I did have a conscience.

But the bad conscience never hit me. Something else did. Because when I opened the door to my room, I saw the guy sitting on my bed.

And then, all of a sudden, the chocolate cake was on the floor, I was on the bed and the guy was holding me down.

(So, what do you think? Don't forget to review guys:)

Yours truly,

Mickasala)